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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28162728">Island of Dreams</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustOnlyGinger/pseuds/JustOnlyGinger'>JustOnlyGinger</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Astrology, Beaches, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Speedos, Sugar Daddy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:34:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28162728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustOnlyGinger/pseuds/JustOnlyGinger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Vivian never promises Watts anything. Maybe that’s the most attractive thing about him.</p><p>(or, Watts goes on another sex vacation)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Island of Dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Would you know, Jenner… it’s a curious thing, it feels strange to admit, but I had never even seen the ocean, any ocean, until I was older than you are now.” Vivian holds his arm out like he’s waving to the flat blue-green expanse of sea that starts just a few feet away from where they’re sitting on an old blanket on the sand and rolls on to the horizon so impossibly far in the distance that Watts can’t even really make out where the water ends and the sky begins. It smears together in the middle, blue-green into green into blue, and maybe it’s a little greener than the other oceans he’s seen but that’s about the only difference.</p><p>The sand is different, it’s white instead of gray or brown, and so fine that it sticks to him like powdered sugar when he touches it. The animals are different too, the curled-up snail shells like brightly colored hard candies, pink and yellow and orange with brown stripes, and the little red crabs holding their claws in the air when he walks by.</p><p>Vivian is pretty much the same, except that Watts has never seen him this undressed. He’s wearing a tight-fitting bright orange bathing suit that doesn’t cover very much of his skin, which is smooth and hairless and shiny brown like polished leather. He’s even shinier and browner than usual from covering himself in oil and lying out in the sun, and it’s really pretty the way his muscles look moving under his smooth skin, how his body is so small and compact but so graceful, how every part of it and every move he makes looks like it’s on purpose.</p><p>“I don’t think that’s strange. You lived in the plain country, right? In the middle of everything, with land all around you. Like I used to.”</p><p>“Well, of course, but my native continent is much smaller than yours. It was only two or three hundred miles to the sea on all sides. Slightly farther, to the south.”</p><p>“There isn’t a continent like that.” Watts knows that Vivian tells a lot of fibs, especially about the place he came from, but he doesn’t really care. Chinook says that Vivian’s a batty old queen, which might be true but it’s still kind of shitty to say it. Anyway Vivian is good company and his stories are interesting even if they aren’t always true.</p><p>“How do you know? You never even knew these islands were out here. There could be all kinds of unsuspected things hidden away in the wilder regions of the globe, waiting to be discovered.”</p><p>“I know how many continents there are. There’s only seven.”</p><p>“There, you’re wrong.”</p><p>“I know you’re looking for an argument, Mac, but I never was the kind of guy who has to be right all the time.”</p><p>“Why on earth would I go looking for arguments? I’m having a lovely time here. Aren’t you? Isn’t it so pleasant, being out here in the sun and the open air?”</p><p>After a while the sky clouds over and the wind picks up and it gets kind of cold on the beach, and Vivian doesn’t look like he cares and at first Watts doesn’t either. He puts on his shirt and his extra sweatpants but then he’s still shivering, so Vivian tells him to start packing up, they’re going back to the hotel. They don’t end up going back, not right away, there’s a tiny hole-in-the-wall cafe that catches Vivian’s eye and they sit down at a chipped Formica-topped counter and eat chicken kebabs and rice and tomato salad for lunch. </p><p>There’s a lot of food and Vivian keeps telling Watts to eat more, eat as much as he wants, and his arm around Watts’ shoulders is warm and comforting even when his fingers slip under the collar of his shirt and stroke the bare skin. It’s gentle, it’s friendly, it’s not that Vivian wants things from him that he doesn’t want to give, it’s not that, exactly… part of him knows it’s wrong, that’s what it must be. Part of him knows that Vivian is bad news, that there’s something deep down inside him that wants to take control of Watts completely. To bend him into strange new shapes, to dismantle him bit by bit and rebuild him into something unrecognizable. Vivian wants to break him like a wild horse, and he’s the kind of guy who doesn’t bother bluffing, the kind of guy who can actually fucking do it.</p><p>Back at the hotel, Vivian tells Watts to get out of his wet swimsuit while he starts running the bath. Watts doesn’t argue, he’s soggy and chilled to the bone, his shirt and sweatpants soaked through and clinging. He strips in record time and follows Vivian into the bathroom which is the nicest one he’s seen probably anywhere, big old tub and golden faucets shaped like leaping dolphins, marble counters, padded benches and heated towel racks, potted plants and tile mosaics and a big window looking out over the beach which is deserted now as the sun sinks low and blurs into the watery horizon.</p><p>“It’s very nice to have this time alone with you, Jenner,” Vivian says, and Watts leans on him as he steps into the tub, which is deep enough for him to swim in, practically, the hot water goes up to his chin when he sits down and there are mounds of bubbles surrounding him, swirls of fruity-smelling pink and purple foam, and Vivian picks up a washcloth and starts stroking it over his skin. “What a peaceful place. I feel so rested here, all the sea air and sunshine, it’s truly lovely.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“I find a change of scenery does one a great deal of good. Seeing the sights, breathing the air of another country, finding oneself completely out of one’s element, but in the most exciting way possible. Rather marvelous, how strange everything is.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“I can be too much a creature of habit sometimes. Stuck in a rut, enslaved by routine. That’s Taurus for you, I suppose. You, you’re much wilder than I am, isn’t that so? The lion, resplendent and deadly, stalking across the plain… no end of courage, you simply feel no fear.”</p><p>“I don’t know about that.” It’s actually the opposite, Watts thinks, most of his life has been fear, and trying to avoid the things he’s afraid of. Like being alone, although he couldn’t always avoid that. It took a long time, but he got used to it.</p><p>“I know it’s not exactly true. You have fears, I can see them. I know what you’re afraid of, Jenner.” Vivian smiles the way he does, that way that makes the bottom drop out of Watts’ stomach, that makes him think oh jeez he’s in for it now. Vivian’s mouth isn’t as pretty as Chinook’s but it has a nice fullness to it, and his lips are amazingly flexible, like a mule’s or a camel’s. He could pick up a single grain of rice with those lips of his, or tie a cherry stem in a knot. They’re warm and soft and they taste good too, and Watts wishes that Vivian would kiss him. He wants to ask for it, to reach up and grab the back of Vivian’s head and bring him down and kiss him long and hard.</p><p>It would be easy, right now, while he’s floating in the bathtub, Vivian could kiss him and put an arm around him to hold him up so he wouldn’t slip under the water, so he could relax all his muscles and go completely limp and just let shit happen to him. Vivian likes that, he likes taking care of Watts, tucking him in and fluffing his pillows, propping him up and feeding him sips of water and little bites of banana and cracker, he takes care of Watts when he drank too much the night before, when he’s weak and shaky and can’t get out of bed.</p><p>“Vivian…”</p><p>“You’re afraid of being left alone, aren’t you?” Vivian strokes Watts’ hair away from his face, grasps and tugs it gently to guide Watts’ head down, and Watts lets him. He lets Vivian duck him underwater, he doesn’t mind because he knows that once his hair is wet Vivian will spend 20 minutes just sitting there massaging shampoo into it. “You’re a social creature. You want to be touched all the time, you can’t live without it. Without that very solid, tangible, physical reassurance.” Watts has his eyes closed, but he hears the plastic click of a shampoo bottle opening, feels the cool liquid on his skin and Vivian’s warm palms cradling his skull. He groans in reply, he can’t deny it, he knows what Vivian’s saying is true. Just keep touching me, he wants to say. Just keep on, just keep doing it, please just never stop.</p><p>“Well, you needn’t be afraid, Jenner. I won’t leave you. I’ll always be here, to provide you with what you need. Touch, guidance. A firm hand. You like that, don’t you?” Vivian digs his fingers in over and over, scrubbing Watts’ scalp, working it over from his forehead to the nape of his neck, and it’s so good that Watts can barely hold his head up anymore. His neck muscles have gone gooey, and he stops trying to hold his head above the water and just relaxes into Vivian’s hands.</p><p>“Yeah,” Watts groans. “That’s good, right there… don’t stop, god, don’t…” He listens to his own voice trailing off into nothing like it’s a record player that just got unplugged, slowing, slowing, dragging to a halt, he can hear himself breathing and see himself lying in the bathtub like he’s standing outside his own body. Vivian’s hands are on him, Vivian’s pushing him underwater again and Watts tries to reach out and grab himself but the only hands he has are the ones attached to his body, which are just dangling limp and useless at his sides.</p><p>Watts wakes up the next morning feeling remarkably like shit, with a hangover that feels like his soul repeatedly getting disgusted with his body and trying to leave it and very vague recollections of what happened the night before. He can barely get out of bed to piss, it’s a long process and he aches all over, but at least he can do it, and once he drags himself to the bathroom he sees the tub and gets the weird feeling that he’s still floating in it. Like he really did leave his body there last night, but of course there’s nothing there, and he pisses and washes his hands and his face and stumbles back to bed to wait for Vivian to come back from wherever he’s gone. Vivian’s going to bring him breakfast, fresh fruit and maybe muffins and some oatmeal and a hot cup of tea, and sit him up in bed and help him eat it, and then maybe he’ll sit down next to Watts on the bed and stroke his hair until he goes back to sleep.</p><p>Watts lies on his side and curls up with the bedspread wrapped around him, it’s a fancy tufted one that isn’t as soft as it looks and has all this fringe hanging off the edge that’s a little annoying but it’s warm enough and he’s cold, especially his feet, and Vivian’s side of the bed is cold like he’s been up for a while. Which he does tend to get up really early, that’s a thing Watts has noticed about old guys, they like the early morning for some reason. Like to make toast and coffee and sit there and read the paper while the sun rises, and Watts doesn’t get the appeal at all, the only times he’s even seen the sun rise were because he never actually slept the night before. Like the Bob Dylan song, how does it go… I’ve seen the morning light, and it’s not because I’m an early riser, I just didn’t get to sleep last night.</p>
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